


Rise Up

by WitchWithWifi



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: AU, Everyone lives, Family, Little plot, Multi, another fluff, but very cute, season one
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-14
Updated: 2018-07-22
Packaged: 2019-01-17 11:33:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 13,417
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12364860
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WitchWithWifi/pseuds/WitchWithWifi
Summary: Set mid-season one. The delinquents have created a tentative peace with the grounders, and can now focus on surviving, and establishing themselves on Earth.Once a set of pointless drabbles, now has a loose, almost-plot.





	1. Sunshine

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, everyone! Yes, I'm back with another multi-chapter fluff fic, and bonus? This one has absolutely no plot in the beginning. I originally wasn't going to share it, but where's the fun in that?  
> Basically, it's a lot of Raven and Clarke being BFFs, Clarke and Bellamy being awkward, and everyone else calling them Mom & Dad behind their backs. Enjoy!

The sun beat down on the ground. The day was hot, and muggy, with the kind of air that made you feel like you were moving through jello, and had your clothes sticking to your body in mere seconds. Cicadas groaned in the trees, filling the forest with a low, dull buzzing.

Clarke and Raven were lying in the middle of the clearing on their backs, heads together, soaking the rare moment of peace. A moment where, for once, they weren’t needed.

“I can’t believe I’m saying this,” Raven began, raising a lazy arm to cover her eyes, shielding them from the bright glare of the sun. “But-“

“You’re bored.” Clarke finished for her, earning a laugh from her friend. “I know, I am too. It’s hard, being the two most popular people in camp.”

Raven hummed in agreement. “Two most popular people in camp- except, of course, for-“

“ _Bellamy Blake!_ ” An angry voice rang out from across the clearing. Clarke and Raven rolled their heads toward each other, exchanging knowing grins.

They listened to Octavia stomp across the camp and whip open the flap to Bellamy’s tent. The muffled protests soon became louder and more discernible as Octavia dragged her brother out into the open. The younger Blake was nothing if not a dramatist.

“ _Why_ , may I ask, do you have Miller on my tail every single time I step even an inch outside the camp borders?” Octavia’s voice was as sharp as a knife, and Clarke could barely stifle her giggle. This argument was practically a weekly routine at this point.

“He’s not!” Bellamy protested, though his voice sounded a bit weak this time.

“Oh, please!”

Clarke and Raven snickered from the ground as they listened to the Blakes argue for a few more minutes. Those who were in camp, not hunting or doing guard duty paused to watch the siblings with only passing interest before getting on with their tasks. Tasks Clarke herself had delegated in order to enjoy at least three minutes of peace.

Once Bellamy and Octavia had exhausted their argument- and lost the thread of what they were bickering about altogether, Octavia stormed off in one direction, while Bellamy made his way over to the girls, sitting down next to Clarke with a characteristic huff.

“Hey there, sunshine.” Clarke greeted him cheekily.

He glared a her from behind his mess of curly dark hair, but she could tell there was no heat behind it. “Don’t you two have something better to do than lie around?” He asked gruffly.

“Nope,” Clarke chirped, grinning brightly. All this smiling was strange, and really starting to hurt her facial muscles. “My supplies are stocked, and no one’s been shot in weeks. Lots of splinters, though.” After a lot of talking with Anya- and delegating through Lincoln, the 100 had managed to found a tenuous peace with the Trikru. Clarke had definite plans to haggle for some more land, but right now, the territory they'd been allotted was more than she had initially hoped for.

“Plus,” Raven piped up from under the arm she’d thrown across her eyes, “Monty and I finally set up a reliable communication device to get in touch with the Ark.” She stretched her arms out before lacing them behind her head. “We’re done.”

Bellamy grimaced, and Clarke couldn’t help herself. She laughed. Before he could reprimand her, though, she pulled on his arm, coaxing him to lie down. “It’s hot, it’s gross, and for once, no one is dying or about to be killed. For once in your life, relax.”

With some grumbled protests that she could tell were fifty percent for show, Bellamy finally settled down in the grass, and the three of them breathed in what was, for them, a rare moment of peace.

_This is what freedom should have looked like_ , Clarke thought as she watched the clouds form shapes in the bright blue sky above her. _Not like everything we do is in vain. Like this. Like we actually have a chance at survivoing. Like we belong_.

She could feel the tension melting out of Bellamy on her right, and knew he was feeling it too. _We are free._

And in that moment, they were.


	2. Permanent

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm baaaack. I finally found this fic in the bottom of my Pages file and decided to not leave this unfinished (coughprocrastinatingcough). Short chapter, but I have a lot more coming soon. Enjoy!

“Are you insane?”

“Are you?!”

“Clarke, we can't direct our _very limited_ resources towards something that might be blown up at any moment.”

“Bellamy,” Clarke blew the hair out of her eyes in exasperation. “I can’t keep treating people in the dropship. Every time it rains, or snows, or hails- hell, every time we get attacked- one hundred of us cram ourselves inside that thing. I can’t set up an entire clinic there.”

Bellamy was staring down at her, arms crossed, feet planted. Unmoving. “It’s worked this long, hasn’t it?”

“Yes, because we thought it was temporary, Bellamy! Because we thought we’d make it to Mount Weather, and unfortunately, that won’t be happening, possibly ever!” She exclaimed, throwing her hands in the air. Some of the delinquents passing by turned to look at them. She heard one of them mutter something that sounded suspiciously like “Mom and Dad are at it again.”

Ignoring them, she pushed on. “It worked because nothing was permanent, and because we thought that someday, we’d go back to the Ark. But _that’s never happening_ ,” She threw the last words at him like rocks, and watched as his face changed, watched the truth sinking in. “This place here? It’s our home now. And if we want the grounders to think we’re strong- regardless of whether or not that’s true- we need to start marking our territory. We need to build a strong front.”

Bellamy pressed his lips together in a tight, thin line. Clarke stared at him as she watched the gears turn in his head, anticipation growing with each second.

“Fine.” He ground out, and Clarke sucked in a shocked breath. “But-“ He held up a finger. “This is not a priority. This is a side project.”

Clarke positively beamed up at him, excitement coursing through her body. “Yeah, yeah, I’ll let everyone else know.” She turned and practically sprinted across camp, hollering to Raven, “WE’RE BUILDING IT!”

Raven’s resounding whoop rang off the metal walls that surrounded them. Bellamy shook his head, allowing himself a small smile before heading over to the group of delinquents waiting for him at the gate. “All right, remember, when you’re hunting, know what to kill, and where…”


	3. Sick

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi my name is Cait and I have no idea where this story is going. I'm just throwing words at y'all at this point. Enjoy!

It figured that the day construction on the new clinic was to begin, Clarke got sick. The blueprints had been drawn up, the wood had been chopped, and Lincoln had been brought in to supervise. And Clarke was fighting hay fever.

“I can get up, Bellamy.” Clarke rasped, though her stuffed nose made it sound more like “I cad ged ub, Bellabby.” She tried to push herself off of her makeshift bed of tarp scavenged from the dropship.

“Uh, nuh-uh.” He countered, pushing her back down easily. “You’re not going anywhere until you can say my name right.”

“Bellab- Bellab-“ Clarke tried, but her nose simply wouldn’t let her speak. She settled for crossing her arms and glaring at him through her red eyes.

He laughed at her lightly, and handed her a piece of not-that-dirty cloth. In fact, it looked almost… washed. “Blow your nose, get better, then get up. Until then, you stay in here. I don't need you getting the rest of the camp sick.” She groaned, images of him throwing her clinic together in a slap hazard fashion, ignoring her blueprint and, more importantly, Lincoln’s advice. He smirked as she crossly snatched the cloth from his hand and blew her nose, relieving herself of some of the pressure.

He paused as he reached the flap of her tent, and turned back to look at her. His smug look had been replaced by a more genuine, serious look she’d never seen him wear before. “Clarke,” She stared at him questioningly. “I promise. I’ll take care of it.”

Taken aback by the sudden moment of genuine care he showed her, she could only nod dumbly as he slipped out into the daylight. And then, she finally let herself sleep.

***

It was three days until Clarke was well enough to get back to work- and pronounce Bellamy’s name correctly. 

“I declare you healed!” Octavia, her nurse for the day, cheered. Bellamy was out on a hunt, but had left his sister with specific instructions to not to clear Clarke until “she sounds like she doesn’t smoke four packs a day.” Clarke laughed when Octavia told her that, and tried very hard not to let it turn into a coughing fit. She wasn’t coughing up disgusting gifts from her lungs anymore so, hey, small blessings.

Bellamy had, in one of the most bizarre turns of events Clarke had ever experienced, become her main caretaker. For the past three days, he’d brought her meals, cold cloths for her face, water, and updates on how the clinic was coming along. He’d been… nice, which Octavia claimed was his “unshakable need to be an overbearing big brother”, which made Clarke smile faintly. Whatever it was, it had been nice, seeing a different side of him.

“Alright then, little Blake, let’s go!” Clarke rolled to her knees and stood up, hesitating as her eyes filled with stars.

“Woah, speedracer. Take your time.” Octavia gently took Clarke’s arm as her vision slowly returned. “You’ve been on bedrest for three days.”

“More like bed arrest.” Clarke grumbled.

They made their way out into the clearing, into another hot, hazy day. Clarke blinked against the sudden brightness. “Where is it?”

Octavia pointed, and Clarke gasped. “No way.”

The younger Blake eyed her warily. “Do you like it? I know it’s not your exact plan, but Bell insisted…” She trailed off as Clarke made her way toward the foundation of the clinic, reaching down to touch the ankle-high foundation. 

“It’s… Bellamy did this?” She asked, turning to Octavia, wide-eyed. The other girl nodded warily. “It’s… beyond perfect. It’s huge.”

“You should have heard him when we started up.” Raven said, coming up from out of nowhere. “He was all “Clarke needs a bigger clinic” and “What if the grounders attack again?”” She used a fake deep voice that made Clarke laugh, but also made tears well up in her eyes.

Raven caught the look on her friend’s face and smiled. Before Clarke could say anything else, she heard a distant “whoop”, and turned to see Jasper and Monty loping across camp to her, engulfing her in a giant, two-person bear hug.

“Clarke, you’re alive!” Jasper crowed, thumping her on the back. “Thank god.”

“I didn’t realize you were gonna miss me so much, Jas." Clarke laughed, stepping back from the boys.

“Oh, we didn’t exactly miss you, per se,” Monty began.

“We're glad you’re back though.” Jasper clarified.

“It’s just Bellamy wouldn’t stop going on and on…”

“And on." 

"About you.”

“Clarke would like it like this.”

“Clarke needs that there.”

“Clarke won’t eat because she’s a stubborn little-“

“Okay, okay,” She held a hand up, cutting them off. “I’m sorry Bellamy is an overbearing mother hen. I tried to escape, I did.”

That earned a laugh from the entire group, and Clarke allowed herself a small smile. “Well, what are we waiting for? This clinic isn’t gonna build itself.”

***

They worked until the sun descended to hide behind the trees, and Clarke was grateful for the reprieve. She’d never admit it to anyone, least of all Bellamy, that the fever had taken a lot out of her, and by the end of the day she was sore, achy, and desperately trying to ignore the dull but steady throbbing in her back.

Clarke had just finished chugging the last of her water when the hunting party came back, with Bellamy in the lead. She waved at him from her seat on the steps of the Dropship, and he narrowed his eyes at her. She bit back a groan.

Bellamy deposited his kills- a rabbit and two squirrels- with Harper, who was in charge of cooking that night, before making his way over to her, and Clarke did her best to look like someone who wasn’t about to collapse from exhaustion.

“Bellamy Blake, as I live and breathe.” She greeted him cheekily as he came to stand in front of her. “I missed my favorite warden today.”

“Clarke,” He responded, looking her up and down critically. It was such painfully mechanical move, and Clarke found herself holding back a giggle. “Feeling better?”

“I was feeling fine two days ago.” She countered, tilting her head to match his unimpressed expression.

“You were hacking up a lung two days ago.”

“Nothing a little fresh air couldn’t cure.”

He shook his head, black curls bouncing. “How you ever became a med student, I will never know.”

“Want to see the work we got done?” She offered, standing up and focusing very hard on not swaying on the spot. 

Bellamy noticed. “We?”

She brushed past him, walking towards the clinic. “Yes, we. I’m not sick, there’s no reason I shouldn’t be back to pulling my own weight. Besides, I put way too much on your shoulders these last few days.”

“Clarke, you shouldn’t be killing yourself right after you got better-“

“Bellamy.” She turned around and placed a hand on his chest, stopping him in his tracks. She could feel the warmth of his chest, even through his shirt- the only thing separating their skin. She flushed and dropped her hand. “We’re co-leaders. I appreciate the concern. But I’m the doctor.”

“Almost-doctor.”

“And I’ve got it handled. Now, come and see.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aren't they adorable?


	4. Cucumbers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Maybe I can actually get in the habit of bi-weekly updates? Here's to hoping. And here's a short chapter. Enjoy!

The clinic was finished in a week. Stones were pulled from the river, clay was dug from the ground, and logs were chopped at lightning speed. The leaves were beginning to turn, hinting at the end of their long summer, and they couldn’t afford to take too long to finish it. And yet. Clarke couldn’t stop touching the clay-sealed walls, the stone floors, and the makeshift tables Finn had insisted he make for her. She could have cried when they put the finishing touches on the roof. 

“So, was the drain on our resources worth it?” She asked Bellamy teasingly, bumping her hip against his as they surveyed the finished product.

He rolled his eyes, but smiled good-naturedly. “Probably.”

Clarke stared at him.

“Definitely.”

“Good answer.”

***

Sure enough, as the fall descended upon them, so did the common cold. Clarke gave the group a lengthy speech about knowing the signs and symptoms, and reminded them to come to the clinic if they even thought they were getting sick.

“Basically,” Bellamy cut in. “Don’t be a Clarke.”

The group laughed, their eyes glittering in the glow of the firelight. Clarke elbowed Bellamy, probably harder then necessary.

“Okay, is that it for this week’s meeting?” Clarke asked, ready to crawl into her tent. She was freezing, and wanted to bury herself in blankets, burrito style, in the privacy of her and Raven’s tent.

“One more question,” Harper called out, and everyone groaned. “Oh, shut it.”

“Yes, Harper?” Clarke asked, edging closer to the fire.

“When are we gonna start on the new cabins?” 

The group chatter started up again.

“Oh yeah.”

“I forgot about that.”

“My butt is frozen solid.”

Clarke swore under her breath. After the clinic was finished, they started considering building other cabins, so the delinquents didn’t have to live in shared tents and the Dropship- especially with winter sneaking up on them. However, the plans had never gone beyond speculative talk- but Harper was right.

“Um, that’s actually a great question.” Clarke stalled, glancing at Bellamy, who gave her a tiny shrug. “I guess as soon as you’d like? We can take a vote on this, but I know a number of people were interested in the idea of building cabins on their own time, to their own specifications, as opposed to an organized effort like the clinic. Now, we can organize it if you want-“

“Basically,” Bellamy smoothly cut in through Clarke’s nervous babble. “Go ahead and start building. Just clarify where you’re gonna be building and we’ll make the necessary arrangements. All good?”

A murmur of assent went up, and the teens got up and began to part ways, some lingering to warm their hands over the fire before leaving. Some took refuge in the dropship, but others chose to brave out the chill in their tents. Bellamy knelt before the fire, feeding it more logs. He was on first watch tonight.

Clarke knelt next to him, even though she knew she needed sleep. She was heading out a group early the next morning, an assorted group of hunters and guards, daring to explore a little farther than their known territory to the east. “What do you think?”

“About what?” Bellamy continued to stoke the fire as the flames leapt a little higher, suddenly rejuvenated. His skin looked like gold in the dim light.

“The cabins,” She said. “How people really want to start settling here. It’s kind of crazy, isn’t it?” She settled back on her elbows, gazing up at the stars where, somewhere,The Ark was circling them. Her mother. Everything she’d been ripped away from. And yet, she’d never felt more at home than she did here, on this strange planet called Earth.

“I guess.” Bellamy copied her, looking up. “Do you miss it?”

She didn’t need him to clarify. “No,” She responded, surprising herself. “Do you?”

“Not even a little.” He paused. “Well, the food was a bit more varied than it is here. I miss cucumbers.” He laughed a little at himself, and Clarke laughed with him.

“Maybe we’ll grow a garden.”

He grew quiet for a moment, contemplative. Clarke waited.

“This really is our home now, isn’t it?”

“It really is.”

“What’ll we do when the Ark comes down?”

Crickets chirped around them as they continued to gaze skyward. Clarke had initially hated the constant noises going on around her- the crickets chirping, the wind rustling tree leaves, the occasional hoot of an owl- but now, it was her lullaby. She couldn’t imagine sleeping without it. “I have no idea. My mother said that with us gone, and the -the volunteers…“ She stumbled over the word, pushing down the feeling of bile that rose in her throat whenever she thought of the group of people who had willingly walked towards their deaths for the good of others. “And after some shuffling, they have at least another year of oxygen. Maybe less.”

“By then we could have a cucumber patch.” 

Clarke giggled, startling herself with the uncharacteristic sound. “Maybe we will.”

Bellamy turned towards her, his face half shrouded in darkness, though she could still catch the glint in his eyes. “Get some sleep Clarke.”

She opened her mouth to protest, to offer to stay, but was overtaken by a huge yawn that made Bellamy smirk. “Fine. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Sleep well, and dream of many cucumbers.”

She snorted as she walked away.


	5. Pain

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a cute little chapter before a longer one comes later this week.  
> Enjoy!

Pain. Pain everywhere. Every step she took, a wild pain shot through her side. She told Raven as much as they limped back to camp. Raven told her to not be a wimp, and earned a punch from Clarke’s bloodied fist, which instantly flew back to attending the three inch gash on her side, while the other arm locked a little tighter around Raven’s neck.

“Bellamy’s gonna be pissed, you know.” Her friend remarked as they came into view of the corrugated metal fence. She waved at a guard to get them to open the gate, and helped Clarke hobble forward.

“Oh, god, don’t remind me. I just hope he’s out on patrol or-“

“What the hell?”

Clarke groaned while Raven cackled in glee. She turned to the left, where Bellamy came marching towards her, looking less pissed than she expected, and more concerned. She attempted a weak smile. “Hey there, co-captain.”

Bellamy didn’t even hesitate to bat Clarke’s hands from her side and peer at the wound. It wasn’t as bad as it looked. She’d managed to fall victim to a new kind of grounder trap, one where if you trip a wire, an arrow flies out of nowhere, mostly intended to incapacitate, not kill. Clarke had already begun to fall when the arrow zipped towards her, so it only clipped her side instead of imbedding itself into her arm. She told Bellamy as much, attempting to put a positive spin on the whole thing, ending with, “So really, we’re pretty lucky, and we learned something new today!”

Bellamy just glowered, though worry still made unfamiliar lines around his eyes. “To the clinic. Now.”

Clarke began limping forward. “A please wouldn’t kill you.” She grumbled, earning a laugh from the delinquents who had gathered around.

They were the only two people in the clinic that day, a rare change from the usually steady stream of patients in for minor injuries- while cabin-building had been going well, it came with its own list of risks about a mile long, and Clarke has been treating just about all of them.

She patiently told Bellamy where he needed to find everything to patch her up, and only winced a little as he began to stitch her up (The arrow had cut deeper than she’d originally assumed). He apologized under his breath, but other than that was silent.

“Hey,” She began tentatively, as he cleared the bloodied rags off the stone table she used as her main treatment surface. “You’re not actually mad, right? Because I got hurt? I mean, you get hurt all the time.”

Bellamy smiled a little, and Clarke felt relief swoop through her chest. “Yeah, and when I do, _you_ get mad at _me._ ”

“I’m your doctor!” She protested.

“And I’m glad to have you.” He paused. “I mean as my doctor.” He flushed slightly as she laughed at him- and then abruptly stopped so as not to pop her new stitches. “I wasn’t mad at you. I was worried. And, okay, maybe a little pissed that you tend to run headfirst into the unknown without considering what could be ahead, and ignore your own safety-“ 

“Pot, kettle, black.” Clarke pointed out innocently.

Bellamy scrubbed his hands through his messy hair, seemingly not caring about the blood still on his fingers. “I’m trying to say I care about you, despite how much you piss me off.”

This gave Clarke pause. She cared about Bellamy- of course she did, he was one of her closest confidants, and was beginning to become a good friend as well as co-leader. But they’d never actually come around to verbalizing their feelings. Their totally platonic, friendly-friendship feelings. Because they were friends.

“I care about you, too. A lot.” She said, squeezing his shoulder once. He met her eyes, and for a moment it took Clarke’s breath away. To see him up close, like this. Wide, dark eyes, freckled face. Open, and vulnerable, and- though she would deny it up and down to anyone who asked- beautiful.

The moment was broken by a small commotion outside, and Bellamy stepped away, dropping his eyes as Clarke cleared her throat.

“So, okay, um, cool.” He stammered.

Clarke hopped down from the table, attempting not to wince as fresh pain radiated through her side. “We should probably figure _that_ out,” She said, nodding her head towards the clearing, still blocked by the door.

Wordlessly, Bellamy offered her his arm, and after a moment’s hesitation, Clarke accepted it, and let him assist her out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'all I have no idea where/when this story's gonna end, so if you have any requests, I'd love to hear them! Thanks for reading!


	6. Contact

“What is it?” Clarke demanded as soon as they reached the main clearing in the camp. A small group of people were gathered outside the Dropship, while Jasper, amazingly enough, seemed to be doing crowd control.

“Everyone, we’ll give you the whole story when we have the whole story,” Jasper was explaining while people tried to push past him to get inside. Unfortunately, if they managed to sneak past his dangerously flailing arms, they wold be met with Miller, who was like a stone statue of a man blocking the doors.

Clarke and Bellamy pushed through the yelling delinquents to the front of the group. 

“What the hell is going on?”

“Everyone, back up!” Bellamy yelled, and the group instantly quieted. Bellamy hadn’t really yelled since those first few weeks, after the grounder attacks had calmed down. “Jasper, what happened?”

Jasper pushed his goggles back into place on his forehead. “Raven’s getting a transmission from the Ark. It’s Abby. It’s pretty spotty, but it sounds like they’ve figured out a way to get the Ark to the ground.”

Clarke felt her stomach drop as Bellamy balked next to her. “They what? How?” She demanded.

“That’s what everyone else,” Jasper flapped his hands at the group of onlookers. “Was asking. However, since you two are _actually_ in charge, you get to go in.”

Miller stepped aside, and Clarke and Bellamy hurried up the ramp as quickly as they could, while the protests of the other teens started up behind them.

Raven was sitting at the radio table with the headset pressed to her ears while Monty fiddled with the dials and open circuit boards next to her, trying to strengthen the signal.

“No, but Abby, the reentry could melt the entire outside of the plating, and even then, there’s not exactly a parachute big enough for the _Ark_.” She glanced up, her eyes landing on the pair. “Hang on, Clarke and Bellamy just walked in. I’ll hand you off.” Raven passed the headset to Clarke, standing up so the latter girl could gingerly sit. 

Clarke pressed the headset to her ears. “Hey, mom.”

“ _Clarke_ ,” Despite the time, distance, pain, and static between them, Clarke couldn’t help but feel a sense of warmth wash over her at the sound of her mother’s voice. “ _I was ju-_ static _\- Raven about getting the Ark-_ static _\- without hurting anyone. The only-_ static _\- landing near you, because we can’t fly the station._ ”

Clarke nodded, mentally filling in the blanks where her mother had cut out. “But how? Raven’s right, aside from burning up on reentry, the impact of landing could kill you all.” She marveled at the strength in her voice, the lack of waver. Was a few short months all it took to turn her into a stone-hard, calculating leader? Or was she just too much like her mother? She mentally flinched, not wanting to know the answer to either question.

The receiver crackled as Abby spoke again. “ _We’re working on that._ -static _\- either construct a makeshift parachute or try to find a sort of owner’s manual. For the Ark._ ” Clarke chuckled despite herself. A large whine pierced through the receiver, and she winced, turning to glare at Monty, who mouthed the word _Sorry_ , and went back to fiddling with the circuits. Raven made an exasperated sound and slapped his hands away to take over.

“ _Clarke_?” Her mother’s voice sounded stronger in her ear, though it was still ringing, and Raven grinned, and gave her the thumbs-up.

“Yeah, I’m here. Raven and Monty just strengthened the signal. So,” She pinched the bridge of her nose, trying to think clearly, to think beyond the multitude of emotions clouding her mind. “You’re really coming down.”

“ _Yes_ ,” Abby’s voice was filled with excitement. “ _We’re coming to Earth_.”

Bellamy tapped her shoulder, and Clarke looked to see him hold out his fingers. “Hang on, Mom, Bellamy wants to talk.”

“Councilwoman Griffin.” Bellamy greeted Abby stiffly, leaning against the table. 

Raven slipped up next to Clarke silently, and poked her, gesturing for her to lift up her bloodstained shirt. The blonde rolled her eyes, but rucked up the side of her shirt to show her friend the stitches Bellamy had carefully sewn into her side. Monty gasped, but Clarke waved off his silent worry and gave him a placating smile.

“Make sure that mess out there is not _actually_ a mess.” Clarke quietly instructed Monty, who was edging towards the circuit boards again. “Jasper’s probably already dead.” 

Monty made a face at her, but headed out anyway, pausing to chat with Miller at the door.

“What I’m asking is will our people be pardoned… My and Clarke’s people, the one hundred of us that you sent down here as your canaries in a metaphorical mine. We’re fine, by the way, aside from the shootings, and the stabbings, and the food poisoning, thanks for asking.” Bellamy’s face was creased in frustration, and Clarke reached out to him, gently brushing her fingers across his arm. He glanced down at her, features softening, and he squeezed her shoulder gently.

Raven made a choking noise, and walked over to the other side of the dropship, loudly digging through the assortment of tools they still hadn’t yet organized. Clarke rolled her eyes.

“What do you mean, ‘It’s complicated?’… With all due respect, Councilwoman, these people, these _kids_ have suffered far worse in these past few months than anyone should be expected to. A pardon should be the _only_ option… Well, feel free to inform us when you’ve made your decision. Here’s Clarke.”

Bellamy ran a frustrated hand through his hair as Clarke signed off with her mom. “I thought they said they’d pardon us if we survived.” She said, though the words sounded weak even from her own mouth.

“They did. But there’s a problem.”

“What?”

A corner of his mouth quirked. “We survived.”

Clarke smiled too, in spite if the grim situation. “So we did. Speaking of survival,” Clarke struggled out of the chair, trying not to wince as she gripped her side. “It’s time for dinner.” Bellamy seamlessly slid under her arm, wrapping a hand around her side to help her stand. “Come on, you little eavesdropper, you too.”

Raven came around to meet them at the door, sniffing primly. “Eavesdropping is such an ugly word.” They encountered Miller still standing guard at the dropship entrance. Raven linked her arm with his. “Let’s go, buddy, time to refuel. Thanks for battling away crazed teens for us.”

“ _You’re_ a crazed teen.” Miller replied, but he smiled anyway, falling into step with his friends. They bickered good naturedly all the way to the Mess Hall, a generous name for the finally-sheltered area near the smoke shack. All the delinquents were seated on logs or boulders, chattering around mouthfuls of whatever today’s kill was, and some sort of leafy greens.

“Spinach?” She inquired, peering at someone’s plate.

“Just harvested it today.” Miller informed her. “Looks like we’re the gardening type after all.” 

They sat down near Monty and Jasper, and were soon joined by Harper, Octavia, and Finn. For a brief moment, Clarke wasn’t a leader. She was just a girl among friends, but then she laughed so hard she almost split her stitches, and she straightened, forcing down another wince. 

They called a group meeting around the fire that night, filling everyone in on the conversation with Abby, and the uncertainty of their futures.

“So, what do we do?” A younger girl, Fox, asked, eyeing Clarke uncertainly, and Clarke tried not to roll her eyes. As if she would side with her mother above them, above the people who had willingly followed her thus far.

“We go on.” She responded, lifting her chin. “We build, and we hunt and we strengthen our borders. If the Ark wants to join us when they come down, fine, but they do so on our terms.” Clarke didn’t realize her voice had raised until a cheer went of from the group, their grins reflected in the fire. “ _We_ have the upper hand now. _We_ went through hell and back, and we’re not going to let them tell us how to live. Not any more. We are Grounders, now, but more importantly, we are free.”

Another roar of assent, their voices carrying upward like sparks from the fire, seemingly drifting up, up, up. All the way to the stars.

_We are free._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this was supposed to be the last chapter... what do you think? Because I have about 7k more words at the ready ;) Thanks for reading!


	7. Captivity

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Someone requested some Bellamy and Octavia moments, and who am I to deny the people what they want? Here are some feels! Enjoy!

Bellamy was no stranger to captivity. His entire life on the Arc had felt like he was living in a floating jail cell- a sense that only grew stronger once Octavia was born. He had no idea how it must have felt for her, spending her entire life in their tiny apartment, forbidden to step outside, for the small crime of every being born. When she got to the ground, he swore he was going to help her enjoy all that Earth had to offer. He was going to teach her about freedom.

Which is why he was allowing Clarke to curl her fingers around his tense arm to keep him from ripping Octavia and Lincoln apart. His little sister was bidding her… boyfriend goodbye at the gate, both clearly lingering, unwilling to part. He and Clarke were perched on the steps of the Dropship, discussing a meeting with Grounders when the pair had come into sight.

“Bellamy,” Clarke’s voice was soft, and he felt her slim fingers slide across his chin, tilting his head until he was looking at her, and not the display his sister was making. “She can make her own decisions.”

“I wish she wouldn’t.” He grumbled, trying to look back at Octavia, but Clarke’s grip was firm.

“No, because that would be no better than the Ark and you know it.” He frowned, but Clarke pushed on. “Look, she could have done a lot worse than Lincoln. And she can take care of herself. _You_ made sure of that.”

He wanted to argue. Say that Octavia was still too young, too reckless, to headstrong. But he was those things, too, wasn’t he? He’d shot the Chancellor. He’d forced the hundred, people who were now his friends, to take off their bracelets or starve. _Whatever the hell we want_. What had he been thinking?

So he stopped fighting Clarke, instead just slumped in surrender. She dropped her hand to his shoulder, tentatively using her thumb to work out a knot in his back. “She’s smart, Bell. Give her some credit.”

As if summoned by his thoughts, Octavia bounded over to where they were sitting and dropped onto the step next to Bellamy, giving him a smack on his cheek. “Hey big brother.”

“Where’s my kiss?” Clarke complained from his other side. She was one step up and pouting at her friend. Octavia leaned up and gave her a messy smack on the jaw. 

“You’re officially my favorite, for keeping this one,” Octavia jabbed a well-aimed elbow into her brother’s ribs. He grunted in protest. “In line.”

Clarke grinned, ruffling Bellamy’s hair, and he made another displeased noise. “My pleasure. He gets all grumpy- well, grumpier than usual. It’s adorable.”

“You two are terrible.” He griped, ducking his head to hide his red cheeks. Octavia leaned her head on his shoulder.

“Aw, you know you’re my favorite, Bell.” She wrapped her skinny arms around his muscular one, giving him a squeeze. “And Lincoln’s harmless.”

“He’s a Grounder, O.” 

“So are we, according to the speech Clarke made last week.” She looked up to send the blonde a wink, who conspiratorially winked back. _Traitor_ , Bellamy thought sourly.

“He’s dangerous.”

“No more so than you.”

“I just,” He ran his hands through his hair in desperation. Behind him, Clarke whistled. “Ooh, O, you got the two-hand hair thing. That means he’s really irked.”

“I’m not irked,” He grit out. “I just want you to be safe, Octavia. This isn’t safe like the Ark-“

Octavia cut him off, and her voice was as cool as ice. “The Ark wasn’t safe for me, Bell. That’s why we’re here. And I am safe. You taught me to be smart, and I’ve been learning self-defense from Holly and Jay.”

“Ooh, they’re good,” Clarke blurted. Bellamy turned his head to glare at her. “You know what? I have a lot of… ah… bandages to sort! Well, not a lot. But a few. I should actually make some. And I’m gonna do that right now. Somewhere away from here.” She quickly got to her feet and flew across the clearing. Bellamy watched as she bounced on the balls of her feet for a moment, seemingly deciding between her tent and the clinic. Then, Raven stepped out of her tent, and grabbed Clarke’s arm, speaking quickly about something. Clarke’s laugh was surprised, and it carried over to the Dropship. The two girls then ran off, and disappeared from view.

“Bell,” Octavia’s voice had dropped, despite the fact that they were the only two people around. “Why don’t you trust me?” She was really asking, now, not just trying to rile him up.

He grimaced, not wanting to meet her stare, more than familiar with the intensity it held. “It’s not you. It’s them,” He gestured vaguely at the scene before them. “It’s Earth. It’s knowing I can’t protect you anymore. That was my whole life, O,” He looked at her, absolutely wrecked. “All I wanted was to protect you from pain.”

Octavia was quiet for a moment, studying her brother’s face. Her dark eyes were mirror images of his, deep and filled with emotion. She reached out a hand and touched his face, running her thumb across his cheek. “You did so well. You did your best. But you don’t have to do that anymore. You don’t have to hide me anymore.” He was really grateful that no one was around to see his tears. “You’re allowed to have your own life.”

What a novel concept. “You _are_ my life.”

“And you’re mine, big brother. And now we get to have our own lives, separate but side by side. Okay?”

“Okay.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oops, that got deep. Up next: Plot progression? (Does it count as plot progression if you don't know where the plot is going?). Thanks for reading!


	8. Furs

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anyone ever wonder how people made furs? I was! I googled it and regretted it ever since, but I am dedicated to REALISTIC WORLD BUILDING, so *waves hands* here you go. Enjoy!

Clarke flexed her fingers, attempting to force her blood to keep flowing through them. The end of fall was hurtling towards them like a freight train (not that she’d ever actually seen one), and she and Raven still hadn’t started building their cabin. They may have been leaders, but that didn’t mean they weren’t terrible procrastinators. Raven claimed she was too busy trying to figure out how to get electricity without an outlet, and Clarke claimed she was too busy doing everything else.

“Even I made time to build something.” Bellamy chastised her that morning, while she hunched close to the fire, poking her fingers as close as possible to the orange flames.

“All the girls helped you because they wanted to spend some time in your love shack.” She growled, staring into the fire.

“Low blow, Griffin,” He chuckled, kneeling next to her. “And here I was going to offer you this.” Something soft and warm was suddenly covering her hands, and she jumped in surprise, before looking down at what he’d presented her with.

It was grey, streaked with white, and softer than anything she’d encountered since landing on the ground. “A fur?”

Bellamy grinned. “You know how Wes has been skinning all the animals lately? Turns out he’s been trying to make furs for all of us- except he’d never made them before. This is one of his most recent successes. Rabbit from a few days ago.”

Clarke marveled at the fur in her hands. One side was leathery, but still soft, and the fur itself… she fisted her hands in it, relishing in the warmth the fur gave her. “This is amazing.” Remembering herself, she stretched her hands toward her co-leader. “It was really nice of Wes to give it to you.”

Bellamy lifted both of his palms, stepping back. “Believe me, princess, you need it more than I do.”

“Bellamy, no, I couldn’t-“

“I’m walking away, now.” He called, taking dramatically long strides towards the Mess Hall. Clarke laughed at him, her breath coming out in cloudy puffs, and clutched the fur close to her chest, appreciating the slow warmth building up in her chest.

“You guys are too cute.” Jasper’s voice came from somewhere behind her, and suddenly the goggle-toting teen was standing next to her, slinging a friendly arm over her shoulders. “When should we start planning the wedding?”

Clarke shoved him away playfully. “Friday the first, in the year Never-Gonna-Happen.” She joined the stream of teenagers stumbling sleepily into the Mess, ignoring Jasper’s defiant “I’ll send out invitations! Just say the word!”

She sought out and profusely thanked a shy Wes, who mumbled quietly that his family had descended from Native Americans, and refused to forget their ancestors. “It wasn’t really popular to talk about on the Ark, so it took me a while, and…” He shrugged, not meeting Clarke’s eyes.

Her heart broke a little, and she reached out to rest a gentle hand on his shoulder. “This isn’t the Ark, Wes. This?” She held up the fur. “This is amazing. If you felt comfortable, I bet a lot of us would love to learn from you.”

Harper, who had been sitting across from him at the table, was already nodding enthusiastically. “I was wondering what happened to all the animal skins! Dude, this is so cool!”

The few others who had been not-so-subtly eavesdropping voiced their agreement, and a wide-eyed Wes smiled tentatively. Clarke gave him a conspiratorial wink, and slipped away to sit next to Bellamy, who passed her a bowl of steaming mystery meat soup. The soup warmed her throat, the fur warmed her lap, and Bellamy tossed an arm around her shoulders like it was nothing, warming up her entire body.

***

Clarke thought she had a strong stomach. She’d cut away diseased flesh, stitched up wounds, and confronted some pretty nasty poisons with the best of them, but this was a whole other level of grotesque. She slapped a hand over her mouth as Wes moved on to the next part of his demonstration. He’d been giving fur-making classes every day for the past week, and Clarke and Bellamy had finally stopped by to learn. Wes’s quiet voice and calm demeanor were at such odds with the carnage in front of him, it made her head spin.

As he lifted the knife, she turned and pressed her face into Bellamy’s shoulder. “I can’t watch.” She felt his body shake with what seemed to be a chuckle, and she leaned back to shoot him a glare.

Bellamy’s face, however, was pale, eyes wide and unblinking as he transferred his gaze from Wes to her. “I’m going to have nightmares about this.”

“Let’s just tell everyone to keep up the good work and never ever watch this again.” 

“Agreed.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short, sad chapter coming up because PLOT.


	9. Cedric

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry in advance. Enjoy! (?)

She lost someone later that week. Cedric had come in with a cough, and chills. She immediately recognized the symptoms and slammed clinic the door, guiding him to the fur-lined bed she’d set up. “Stay here.”

She’d talked to Bellamy, who spread word of the quarantine to the whole camp. Thankfully, Cedric seemed to be the only who'd caught it so far. She tended to Cedric night and day, but she simply didn’t have the medicine to combat pneumonia. She tried the herbs she knew best, tried hydration, and tried covering his shaking body in furs to encourage his body to recognize warmth. She didn’t let him see her cry in desperation.

A few days was all it took, and he was gone. His girlfriend, Aurora, couldn't be consoled for weeks after.

They held a funeral, a real funeral, and Clarke stopped trying to hide her tears, strong leadership be damned. Bellamy held her that night as she cried herself out, reminding her that she did everything she could.

“Nineteen dead.” She lamented, looking up at him with misery.

“Eighty one alive.” He countered, squeezing her shoulders. “We’re doing good here. You’re doing good. No one else got it.”

Her lip quivered. “They will. Winter’s on it’s way.”

“And we’ll be ready when it does.”

She fell asleep there, in his cabin, against his chest, drinking the gentle rise and fall of his breathing. And if they woke up curled up next to each other, neither commented on it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oops, people die on Earth. :( Sorry. New chapter coming tomorrow!


	10. Negotiations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slightly happier chapter, plus low-key BAMF Clarke! Enjoy!

“Okay, but for real, Clarke. We have to build ourselves a real cabin.”

*** Two Weeks Later ***

“No, no Raven!” Clarke pressed her palms into her eyes in frustration. “We are not making a loft.”

Raven pouted. “Why do you kill all of my best ideas?”

Clarke pointed at the mostly-finished, tiny structure. “Adding a loft to what is essentially a shack is the second-worst idea I’ve ever heard.”

“What was the first?”

“Sending a bunch of teenagers down to Earth in a rocket.”

Raven’s eyes widened, and she laughed, doubling over as her breath curled through the chilly air in steamy bursts. Clarke eventually joined her, and soon, the two girls were on the ground, fighting off fits of giggles. They’d had precious little to laugh about lately, and it felt good.

“Next summer, Clarke,” Raven said, once they’d regained their breath. “We’re making a real cabin. And it’s gonna have a loft.”

Clarke rolled over onto her back to stare up at the sky. It was cloudy and grey today, threatening to dump either relentless rain or snow on them at any moment. “Jasper thinks that Bellamy and I are going to be married by then, so it looks like you’ll be on your own.”

The other girl snorted. “Jasper’s an idiot.”

“Thank you.”

“It’s gonna take way longer for you guys to get together.”

“Raven!” Clarke shot up, earning another laugh from her friend. 

The mechanic held up her hands, climbing to her feet. “I’m just telling you what everyone else is thinking.”

Clarke shook her head, her blonde hair swaying with the movement. “Everyone else is wrong.”

Raven just shot her a friend a smile that, if Clarke didn’t know better, looked almost pandering. “Whatever helps you sleep at night.”

“Well, Bellamy Blake is not one of those things.”

“Are you talking about good old dad?” Jasper asked, as usual, appearing out of no where. “Nice shack.”

Clarke narrowed her eyes at him. “For the millionth time, Bellamy and I are not your paren- Stop mocking me!” She smacked Jasper upside the head as she caught him mouthing her words.

“Yes, mom.” He demurred, stepping away with his hands up in surrender as she took a threatening step towards him.

Raven stepped between them, placing a hand on Clarke’s head. “Easy, there. Now, Jas, can you please tell Clarke that a loft is an absolutely necessary part of our cabin design if we really want it to be cool and not just functional.” 

“Oh, absolutely.” He agreed, all wide eyed innocence. “And when it fails spectacularly, we can all come over and laugh.”

“Now _I’m_ going to hurt you.” Raven grumbled, turning to duck into the cabin. “You’ll eat your words, Jordan, believe me.”

Jasper exchanged a quick smile with Clarke. “I actually came by to tell you Lincoln and Octavia are here. Said you were looking for them.”

“Oh, great! Thanks!” She turned to run off to the center of camp.

“I also heard something about not telling Bellamy.”

Clarke skidded to a halt, trying not to look as guilty as she felt. “I just… I know he doesn’t like Lincoln, but we need him.”

Jasper pressed his lips together, but nodded. “I won’t say anything.”

She flashed him a grateful smile, then darted off to find the pair.

—-

Octavia and Lincoln were waiting for her in the Mess. Octavia was lounging on a long boulder they had converted into a table, while Lincoln was examining the thatched roof they’d attempted. There were holes in places, and it wasn’t the most beautiful piece of roof, but they’d made a solid attempt.

“Hey!” Clarke called as she reached them.

Octavia raised a hand in greeting. Lincoln turned his head to look at her. “Your design is flawed.” He said flatly, pointing his finger upwards.

She frowned at him. “We tried, though.”

“Trying will mean nothing when the snow comes.”

With a sigh, Clarke sat at Octavia’s table. “Well, I’d be forever grateful for your help. But right now I want to talk about territory.”

“You’re not gonna like what he has to say.” Her friend stage-whispered.

Lincoln came forward, his furs swishing around his shoulders like a cape. “You cannot ask for more land.”

Clarke had been expecting this. However, hearing it from him made what she was about to say a lot harder. “The Ark is coming down soon. That’s not a guess, that’s a fact. By spring, maybe at the latest, summer, they’re going to attempt to come down.”

“So, you want more space for more of your people.” There was a tinge of derision in his voice, normally so impassive.

“No.” Lincoln’s eyebrows quirked up, and even Octavia was looking at her in surprise. She scrambled into a sitting position, raven-black hair tumbling over her shoulders.

“What do you mean?”

“We need more space- but not for the people from the Ark. They’re not my people. They can figure out how to survive on their own.”

Octavia’s eyebrows knit together in concern. “Um, Clarke, are you sure-“

Clarke tilted her head to face the other girl. “They sent us down here to die. They called us expendable. We did our job. The rest is up to them- we’re not accountable for their actions.” Clarke turned to Lincoln again. “I want you to tell your leader that if the Ark comes down, we are not responsible for them. We will give them warnings, but we are not to blame if they get stupid.” Her voice was cold, thick with steely determination. She and Bellamy had discussed this with each other, but were reluctant to approach the camp with the idea. She knew not everyone would like what it implied.

The other man appraised her, before offering a slow nod. “And if the people from the Ark attack?”

Clarke shrugged. “We’ll try to stop it, but we won’t turn against you.”

Another nod. “I will tell my leader.”

The three all rose, and Clarke extended her hand for a shake. “Thank you, Lincoln. I know this is asking a lot.”

Lincoln’s mouth quirked, hinting at a smile. “Not really. Besides,” He cast a sideways glance at the girl next to him, who had already woven their fingers together. “There was more than one reason I came.”

Clarke rolled her eyes, beginning to walk away. “Yeah, you’re cute, it’s gross. Don’t let Bellamy see.”

Even as she walked away, she swore she heard Octavia say, “The one man that ever scared you, right, Lincoln?” She smirked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :D


	11. Bump

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Everything has been going great, but there's a small... bump in the road. Kudos to anyone who figures it out before the end of the first sentence.

It was bound to happen at some point. Teenage girls, teenage boys, and no constant supervision for the first time in their lives? Everyone knew that the camp was basically sex central at that point. Still, it surprised Clarke when Monroe appeared at the door of her clinic on a chilly morning, looking pale, and shivering. Monroe had had some sort of stomach bug for over a week, and Clarke couldn’t figure out what it was for the life of her. No one else had seemed sick, but she’d kept the girl on bedrest anyway to keep it from potentially spreading.

Clarke dropped the tray she’d been cleaning and rushed to her friend, immediately sliding an arm around her shoulders, and assisting her to the examination table, looking for any sign of a visible wound. But Monroe appeared to be fine- at least, she wasn’t bleeding anywhere Clarke could see.

Before she could even ask what was wrong, Monroe burst into tears, hiding her face in her hands. Her nailbeds were full of dirt. Absently, Clarke remembered that the girl worked in the garden with Jasper. They were working on developing a greenhouse to combat the oncoming cold.

Clarke stroked her back, patiently waiting as Monroe’s sobs quieted to hiccups, before asking, “What’s wrong? Did the bug get worse?”

Monroe looked up at her, despair in her red-rimmed eyes. “I think I’m pregnant.”

If Clarke had been expecting any sort of answer, it hadn’t been that. In her mind, she kicked herself for not considering it. Their implants weren’t supposed to fail, but it had been, oh, five years since she’d gotten hers. They didn’t last much longer than six years for most. Swallowing her terror, she put on her best impassive-doctor face. “What makes you think that, Monroe?” She pulled up the upturned, wide-based log she used as a chair.

Monroe listed her symptoms, ticking them off one by one with a flick of her fingers. “I haven’t gotten my period in three months, I’ve been getting sick for more than a week, my…” She hesitated with embarrassment before whispering, “My boobs really, _really_ hurt, Clarke. And, well, I’ve been sleeping with James.” There was a definite flush on her cheeks, and Clarke’s heart broke a little. “I figured the implant would protect me. Pretty stupid, huh?”

“No.” Clarke responded firmly. “You are not to blame for this. Almost everyone’s been having sex since we got down here. But…” Clarke gave her a grim smile. “I have to ask you some more questions.” Monroe nodded, willing for some chance, any possibility for this not to be true. But five minutes later, Clarke had her answer. “You probably are. Pregnant, I mean.” Monroe’s face crumpled again as Clarke squashed the little hope she’d had left. “I won’t be able to tell until you start showing, but the symptoms are pretty typical of pregnancy.” 

“What am I going to do?” She asked, panic returning quickly.

“We’re going to help you get through this.” Clarke said soothingly, placing her arms on Monroe’s arms. “You are not alone, okay?” Monroe hardly seemed to hear her, her breath coming in short, sharp bursts. “Hey, Monroe? Look at me. Look at me, Monroe.” The girl finally lifted her head, meeting Clarke’s serious gaze. “You. Are. Not. Alone. Okay?”

Monroe hesitated, before bobbing her head in acknowledgement. “Okay.”

Clarke dropped her hands, stepping back. “Okay.” She ran a hand through her hair, a nervous tick she’d picked up from Bellamy. “Okay, we have a lot of work to do. Monroe, if you want, and I’d recommend doing this, you should tell James. This affects him, too.” 

Monroe grimaced. “I had a feeling you’d say that.”

“And I have to call a camp meeting. I’m not going to single you out, but we need to warn the others.”

Monroe nodded, her eyes already glazing over, and Clarke could tell she was panicking again. “Remember, I’m here for you.” The girl cast her a grateful smile, before ducking out of the cabin. 

Clarke took a deep breath, steadying herself before stepping out into the clearing.

She paused in the doorway of her clinic, surveying the scene before her. The fire that perpetually burned in the center of camp was crackling and popping, being attended to by one of the younger delinquents, who was drawing in the dirt with a stick. Around the center, the cabins fanned out in a roughish circle, with no real rhyme or reason to their construction nor placement. Each one was unique to its residents. Harper and Wes were sitting outside the smokehouse, laughing about something while they worked on making more pelts, being helped by a few other teens. Gunners patrolled the fence, sometimes stopping to chat with a camper or two. Water was being boiled and purified (to the best of their extent) over the smaller fires by the Mess, and hunters were coming in and out of camp, dropping off their kills before stumbling into their cabins, exhausted from another long day. They had a garden, food, water, and adequate shelter. If Monroe or anyone had come to her with this problem a few months ago, Clarke would have said there was no way a baby could survive here. But now?

She caught sight of Bellamy returning with the other hunters, sporting a huge grin. He and another boy had in their arms a deer, hoisting it above their heads like a trophy, and Clarke supposed it was. That deer meant dinner for everyone, and another pelt to keep someone warm. She hated to ruin his fun, but they needed to talk. He needed to hear this.

She made her way over to him, waiting until he’d finished accepting the obligatory congratulations and excited comments. “Am I supposed to believe you took that thing down all by yourself?” She teased, bumping her shoulder with his.

“You should, since it’s the truth, Princess.” He replied with a wink. Clarke suppressed a smile.

“I need to talk to you about something. Everything’s fine,” She hastened to add, as his smile transformed into a look of worry. “Well, mostly fine. No one’s dying, but…”

“Tell me.”

She pulled him into the clinic, closed the door, and told him everything. He leaned back on the table Monroe had been crying on just minutes ago, absorbing the information. “So… What are we gonna do?” 

Clarke shrugged. “What can we do? There’s no way to abort it safely, and I don’t even know Monroe’s stance on that. She might even miscarry in the first trimester. That happens a lot.”

“But if she doesn’t?”

“If she doesn’t, if she carries the baby to term, labor’s gonna be difficult. I've never delivered a baby before, Bell.” She looked at him, the only person she could trust with her true feelings, her deep fears. "I'm terrified for her."

“I helped my mom deliver O,” Bellamy reminded her. “I can help with this, too.”

His words, calm, reassuring, were like a balm to Clarke's frayed nerves. She gave him a small, grateful smile. “We might have to take you up on that. And if she and the baby survive the labor… the camp will have a baby.”

Bellamy let out a low whistle. “Well, you know what they say.” Clarke shot him a questioning look. “It takes a village to raise a child.” He smirked, and she let out a laugh. It was inappropriate, and short lived, but it had her smiling. “That kid is gonna have 81 fantastic parents.”

Clarke was still smiling, and he was mirroring her, smiling right back at her. Without thinking, she darted forward, wrapping her arms around his middle. He stiffened briefly at the contact, but soon relaxed, his arms coming to circle her body. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.” She admitted quietly, pressing her face into his chest, drinking in his warmth.

His laugh was a deep rumble, and she felt the vibrations. “You’d die of boredom from my lack of witticisms. And starve due to the lack of venison.”

Her lips pulled upward again, and she pulled away, even though every muscle she had yearned to pull her body against his again, and never let go. Instead, she scoffed, and tilted her head. “Let’s go, joke master. We have horny teenagers to talk to.”

“Ugh, horny teenagers are the worst.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lol at anyone who thought it was Clarke. She's busy! And now she had to teach sex ed. Yikes. Thanks for reading!


	12. Aurora

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Talking to the camp goes exactly as expected.

“What do you mean, our implants are failing?”

“How do you know that?”

“What’s menstruation?”

Clarke pressed her palms into her eye sockets, trying to ward off the oncoming headache. This meeting was going exactly how she’d predicted. “If everyone would just SHUT UP, I could actually tell you!” She shouted, finally letting her anger take over.

That was enough to shock the group into silence. Clarke wasn’t a yeller. A leader, yes, cold and calculating when necessary, absolutely. But a yeller? No.

She took a deep breath, trying to center herself. Everyone was gathered in the Mess. They almost never had meeting midday, so thankfully most of the delinquents understood the gravity of the situation. “I'm not going to beat around the bush. This is about the implants girls receive on the Ark in order to prevent pregnancy. They don't last forever, and we've been down here for a few months, now. If you've been relying on them for birth control, I'd reccommend reconsidering. We don't have the resources yet to replicate its effects."

Now came the hard, and more controversial part. "This, in addition to how old your actual implant is, could cause them to fail. This means if you're not careful, you could end up pregnant. If you have reason to suspect you might be pregnant, I want you to come see me in the clinic. There’s no shame about it,” She added, her eyes flickering to a few red-cheeked teens. “We just need to be certain. Pregnancy is no joke.”

Where she’d expected some scoffs or protests, she was met with silence. So, she progressed on to the even more awkward part of her speech. “As I understand it, not many of us have had an… er, _expansive_ sex education yet. So, if anyone is curious, or wants to learn about safe sex, and I’m hoping that will be all of you, we’ll be holding classes after dinner starting tonight.”

Ah. There were the scoffs and questions she’d expected. She turned to Bellamy, who’d quietly stood behind her the entire time. she gave him a look that clearly said, “I’m done. Your turn.”

He raised his hands, telling everyone to calm down, before proceeding to answer each question that was raised. No, it’s not mandatory. Yes, boys and girls should attend. No, you don’t have to stop having sex. Yes, pulling out is a thing.

Clarke eventually slipped away, heading to the clinic to prepare for the onslaught of girls that were sure to show up. She rolled up the tarp-covered windows to let in the sunlight, and make the place seem less like a house of sadness.

In less than five minutes, at least ten girls were lined up at her door, looking extremely nervous. She let them in one at a time, asking them the standard questions, trying to stay as calm and neutral as possible. The first nine girls were definitely not pregnant, and each of them walked away, looking lighter and more relaxed than ever.

The last girl in her line was Aurora, and Clarke greeted her warmly. Aurora was a tiny slip of a thing- fifteen and probably a hundred pounds soaking wet. She looked nothing like Aurora Blake, and yet the Blake siblings held an obvious soft spot for the sweet girl who shared their mother’s name.

Now, she was in Clarke’s clinic, and Clarke has a bad feeling about it. “Hey, Aurora,” She gestured for the girl to sit on the exam table while she sat on her log, wishing she had a clipboard, or something to make this feel less like she was a clueless teenager, living in the woods, tending to other clueless teenagers. “How can I help you?” She opened gently, giving Aurora the choice of what to tell her.

The girl fiddled with the fraying hem of her baggy shirt. Clarke waited. A minute later, she heard a quiet, “I’m pregnant.”

“Well, there are some questions I need to ask you-“

“I talked to Monroe. I am.” Her eyes shone, and Clarke’s heart dropped. To her surprise, Aurora then rolled up the hem of her shirt to reveal to Clarke the gentle swell of her belly, something that must have only just started showing. “I only did it once, and it was months ago. I… I never got an implant. I got locked up in the Sky Box before I needed it.”

“Oh.” The breath left Clarke in one soft sigh, and she reached forward, looking to Aurora for permission before placing gentle hands on the small bump, not sure what to expect. She hadn’t seen too many pregnant women on the Ark, but this was what most women looked like at the end of their first trimesters. It felt firm, not like she’d had too many cups of Monty’s test moonshine (an experience Clarke was all too familiar with). “Have you been experiencing any soreness? Spotting?”

She ran through the usual questions, and if Aurora’s stomach wasn’t enough, her answers confirmed it. “Well, you’re definitely pregnant.”

The girl didn’t break down like Monroe had, instead just choosing to sigh and nod, like she’d expected it.

Clarke hesitated. “If you don’t mind me asking, who is-“

In a voice threaded with pain, Aurora whispered, “It was Cedric.” His name was like a gunshot to the heart, and Clarke’s mind drifted to the grave out behind the Dropship.

Clarke reached out for Aurora’s hands. “I’m sorry.”

Aurora shook her head. “Not your fault.” She mumbled. Her fingers were limp and cold in Clarke's.

“I wanted to save him.”

“I know.”

“I’m gonna tell you the same thing I told Monroe. You’re not alone. Everyone is here for you. We’re your friends, and we’re going to take care of you. This is scary, but we can get through it together.”

Aurora nodded, sniffling slightly. “Thanks, Clarke.”

They exchanged sad half-smiles, and Aurora slipped out the door and into the sunlight.

And Clarke was free to go about her nervous breakdown in peace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aw, poor Aurora. I told myself I wouldn't get this attached to a minor, fake character. And here we are.


	13. Party

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not sure why AO3 is telling me the last update was in April, but c'est la vie, here is Clarke not being a party pooper. For once. Enjoy!

“Come on, Mom.” Raven was tugging on her elbow, but Clarke refused to be moved.

“Raven, for the millionth time, I’m nobody’s mom.”

“Tell that to all of your children out there, who love you and who are clamoring for you to come join the party!” She hoisted herself up onto the exam table. “Monty worked really hard on this batch.”

“Instead of doing what he was supposed to?”

“ _Clarke_.”

Clarke set down the bandages she’d been sorting to glare at her friend, who sent her an equally stern glare right back. “One of us has to be sober enough to be on guard so we don’t all  _die_.”

Her friend raised an eyebrow. “We have not one, but two pregnant girls in camp. Tonight, they are our sober guardian angels. So…”

Clarke sighed. She could see this was a losing battle- as was any argument with Raven, come to think of it. “Fine, okay, fine. I’ll go for a few minutes.”

The grin that spread across her roommate’s face was absolutely wicked. “Yeah, okay. Minutes.” Victoriously, she linked arms with Clarke and half-dragged her out into the clearing. “I GOT MOM!” 

The roar that went up from the crowd was almost deafening. Almost instantly, someone shoved a tin cup into her hands filled with a dark, pungent liquid that she was afraid to drink. Raven promised its effects would be “magically malicious”, whatever that meant.

A few kids had set themselves up by the central fire, their faces illuminated by the orange flames. Two had upended barrels and were using them for drums, while others sang drunken, out of tune songs that were popular on the Ark. Some just tried to vocalize the instruments they lacked access to.

Raven had her hand in a tight grip, and led her past Jasper, who was trying to impress a couple of girls by walking on his hands dangerously near the fire. She caught sight of Monty and Miller sitting together, slightly away from the rest of the group. She saw Miller lean in and-

“Come on, Clarke! It’s over here!” Raven yanked her out of view, and Clarke stumbled as she lost her footing.

By the dropship, a form of beer pong had been set up, and that was where Raven pulled her. “I need you on my team so we can  _win._ ” She explained, her breath hot on Clarke’s face.

Clarke took a sip of her moonshine, trying not to choke as she forced the acidic liquid down her throat. “Sure, Raven.”

A game had just begun, though, but Clarke was content to wait. It was Octavia and Harper against Bellamy and Finn. Odd pairings, but she soon understood why.

The four were evenly matched. Harper was a gunner and had great hand-eye coordination, while Octavia was all earnest enthusiasm and had the excitement of at least 100 tipsy Octavias. Bellamy and Finn, on the other hand, were focused on strategy, serious and drunk and hilarious. Clarke giggled as Bellamy clapped his hands on Finn’s face, loudly telling him to “Focus or they will drown us! Do you want to drown?”

“I don’t want to drown!” Finn wailed back, before turning back to face the table, swaying slightly on his feet.

They drowned. Clarke cheered with everyone else as Octavia managed to sink the last ball. It had rolled around the rim of one cup indecisively before finally dropping in with a quiet  _plop_. The cheers rose up from all around them, and Bellamy groaned, though he held his hands up, accepting defeat. While Raven went around to console Finn, alcohol making her  _far_  more forgiving than before, Clarke slipped through the crowd of people to find Bellamy, who was filling his cup with water. “Tough loss, man.” She remarked, bumping her shoulder with his. “And to your  _little sister_. Ouch.”

“Yeah, yeah, rub it in, Griffin.”

“Oh, I intend to.” She replied, grinning up at him. Somewhere along the line, her cup had become empty and her head had become very light. “You’re pretty.” She added, poking him in the cheek.

Bellamy smiled back. He’d been doing that a lot lately, and Clarke liked it. His smile was warm, and it lit up his entire face, transforming him. She liked his hair and his smile and him.“You’re pretty too,” His voice was a deep rumble, and he reached out to tug the braid in her hair.

“You’re my second favorite friend, too.”

He made an indignant sound in his throat. “Second?!”

She turned to find Raven, and stumbled backwards into his chest. Thankfully, he had enough of his wits to grab her by the waist before she fell. “There,” She pointed to her roommate, still leaning against the warm, solidness of his chest. Hey, it was cold out, and Bellamy was like her own personal furnace. Sue her.

“Raven? Don’t tell me I rank below Raven.” Despite their proximity, Bellamy hadn’t lowered his voice, and a laugh came from their left. Murphy. He raised his cup and eyebrows at them, before walking away. Clarke tilted her head up to match Bellamy’s confused expression.

A chorus of hoots and hollers and “Look at our parents!” came from the beer pong table, where the entire group was now focused on Clarke and Bellamy. “Get a room, you two!”

Clarke frowned at them, and reluctantly stepped out of the warmth of Bellamy’s embrace (since when did he have  _both_  arms around her body?). The chill sank in almost immediately, even though the fire was mere feet away. Neither looked abashed, though. Instead, Bellamy began to laugh, heartily enough that even Clarke had to give in, though she wasn’t even sure what she was laughing at.

A hand landed on her shoulder, and she looked up to find Monroe smiling gently down at her, wrapped up in a fur. “I think somebody needs some water.”

Clarke whined, but Monroe refused to leave until she had finished an entire cup. “I think I’m sup’os t-take care of you,” She slurred, squinting at her friend. Exhaustion was beginning to creep up on her, and it was hard not to let her eyelids droop.

“Usually. But sometimes, other people can take care of you.” Monroe reminded her, squeezing her elbow.

“Ooh, like Bellamy!” Clarke cried, whirling to look for him, pointing wildly. The crowd was thinner, but her vision was much worse. Everything was spinny. “He’s so nice. Except for when he’s not.”

Monroe laughed. “Yes, he is, and you two are very cute together.”

Clarke frowned. “We’re not.”

“I think it’s time to get you to bed,” The other girl commented. “You seem to be a bit confused.”

“But the party-“

“Is over.” Monroe was right. The kids were beginning to drift away, splitting off to stumble into their cabins. The drummers were still going strong, but their accompanying vocalists had vanished long ago.

“Okay, fine.” Clarke allowed Monroe to guide her to the latrine, and all the way back to her cabin, facedown into her pile of furs with the promise to finish her canteen of water before going to sleep for the night.

One hour found her holding Raven’s hair back as the girl threw up, thankfully outside of their cabin.

One hour and three minutes found Raven holding her hair back as she also threw up, outside their cabin. Technically.

She was gonna kill Monty come morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My friend asked if I was trying to kill her with this chapter. The answer is yes. :)


	14. Hands

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short, but we get a little Bellarke! I know that's why you're all here, and you've been absolute troopers! Enjoy!

Clarke thanked whatever lucky stars there were that Jasper and Monroe had finally finished their greenhouse. She'd been especially worried about Aurora and Monroe herself getting enough to eat.

The frost seemed to be permanent on the ground these days, and Clarke was bracing for snow every day. One morning, Bellamy showed up in the clinic, makeshift shovels in hand.

“I hope you’re not planning to kill me and bury the evidence.” She said dryly, eyeing him before turning back to sorting through her dried herbs.

“Well, there goes my afternoon.” He set down a shovel next to her. “No, we’re digging a hole by the Mess.”

“And we’re doing this because?”

“You have absolutely zero arm muscle. I thought this could be an opportunity to bulk you up.” The punch he received after that comment served to put that claim to rest. “Fine, we’re digging a place where we can build up a store. Vegetables, meat we haven’t used, all that. A refrigerator of sorts.”

Clarke frowned. “I hate when you make sense. Almost as much as I hate manual labor.” With a sigh, she heaved the shovel over her shoulder. “Let’s go.”

It was cold, and their backs were quickly covered in cool sweat as they dug. By the time they were finished, Clarke’s arms felt more like rubber than muscle, and her shirt stuck unpleasantly to her back. But they had a decent sized hole in the ground, right between the Mess and smoke shack. It looked like a gopher tunnel, and she sorely hoped no animals would claim it as their new home.

“That should do,” Bellamy breathed, resting a well-toned arm on her shoulder. She shook him off easily.

“I hope so. Winter’s been hard on everyone. Especially Monroe and Aurora. And this is just the beginning.”

Bellamy’s grimace was one of agreement, reluctant and masking the fear Clarke felt simmering under the surface of both of their facades of calm.

“Bell,” Clarke placed a hand on his shoulder. “We’ve got this.” 

He knit his eyebrows at her, and she realized that she’d used the name that only Octavia ever called him. Before she could open her mouth to apologize, though, he gave her a brusque nod. “We’ve got this.”

Then, he did something she hadn’t expected at all. He reached for her hand and laced their fingers together, squeezing lightly, just once. Clarkes breath caught in her chest, but she squeezed back, tentative and experimental. His hand was warm, and dry. She could feel the callouses from months of hard work brush against her skin. The camp was still buzzing around them, the lives of their friends continuing on, but for Clarke, time seemed to slow down between the two of them, and she dared to look up at Bellamy. She took in the slope of his nose, and the almost artistic cut of his jaw. He seemed to notice her ogling, and turned his head to meet her gaze, a faint smile playing across his face. “See something you like, Griffin?” He teased in a low voice, and she tried not to squirm at the intensity of his words. Okay, so Bellamy was hot. She could admit that, right? Her second best friend was hot, but that didn’t mean she _liked_ him like that. He was infuriating, and obnoxious, and he was so ridiculous when it came to history, or Octavia. And any time Clarke so much as pricked her finger, he was all over her, worrying like he… _no_.

_Fuck. I’m in love with Bellamy_.

She dropped his hand and stepped back, ignoring the look of confusion and hurt that ran across his face. He couldn’t know. He was reaching for her, as a friend, for comfort, while she wanted to reach for him. Just for him. It wasn’t fair.

“I just realized that I have a lot to prep for. Lots of colds. And pneumonia. Not good. I just. I. Bye!”

The air was cold, but the flames in her cheeks kept the chill at bay.

***

“O, it didn’t work. She totally freaked. Was I reading everything wrong?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Bellamy. Clarke's totally oblivious that this boy has been head over heels since day one.


	15. Fire

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lmao I'm back. Enjoy!

In spite of her world-shattering realization, Clarke was determined to continue living like she normally did. She had not one, but two pregnant girls to attend to, and she’d be damned if she was forced to put aside those obligations for feelings she may or may not have for her best friend.

She continued her daily routine of checking in with Monroe and Aurora, offering her limited knowledge to the gardening squad, and dragging whatever poor soul was available out to collect herbs. And if she didn’t see Bellamy much that week, could anyone blame her?

All was going fine and well until Bellamy himself was the only person free to go foraging with her. “You’re avoiding me.” He stated as soon as they were out of view of the camp. The day was bright, and frigid. The first of the snow hadn’t stuck around, but Clarke knew that only meant there was more to come. Most of the plants she needed had shriveled up and died in the cold, but there was this one particular moss that had managed to persevere, and she needed it  _now._

Clarke winced at his bluntness. “What makes you think that?” She kept her voice level, and her eyes stared straight ahead.

“Clarke,” Bellamy’s voice was unusually soft, and pleading. He stepped in front of her and forced her to make eye contact with him. “What is it? Is it the Monroe? Aurora? Did I…” He hesitated, and swallowed uncomfortably before continuing, “Did I do something?”

He looked like a kicked puppy, all lines in his forehead and woeful brown eyes. She surprised herself by answering with the truth, “It’s you.” His face crumpled, and she panicked, rushing to amend, “You didn’t do anything wrong, Bell! It’s just I… Well when you held my hand the other day, I realized- I… You know what? Never mind, it’s stupid, and seriously, it is not what we need to be focusing on right now with everything going on.” She said this all in one breath, the jumble of words just pouring out of her mouth. Bellamy watched her, a parade of emotions marching across his face, each more indecipherable than the last.

Clarke clamped her mouth shut and made to move around him. Bellamy reached out a hand to stop her, and even his damn _hand_ on her _shoulder_ felt like fire through her thin jacket (She’d stupidly opted not to take a fur with her). She met his eyes hesitantly. “Clarke, I think you should know something.” She raised an eyebrow, hoping he couldn’t hear her pounding heart as she waited for him to continue. “I’m in love with you.”

Clarke had jumped off a cliff last summer. It had been her first time hurtling through the air while knowing all the while she was _not_ falling to her death. She had been weightless, euphoric. It was a rush she would never forget.

Hearing Bellamy say those five simple words was like that feeling times fifty. “You do?”

He finally cracked a smile, the first one in days, and she realized as much as she’d been avoiding him, she still noticed his brooding. “I do.” He stepped closer to her. God, but he towered over her. He dipped his head, and their noses brushed. “What do you think about that, Princess?”

Her eyes fluttered closed. “I think…” But she didn’t need to think. Instead, she leaned forward, and kissed him. 

The fire she’d felt whenever he touched her burst to life in her chest. It didn’t matter that she didn’t have a fur on, or that it was cold enough to start snowing. All that mattered was her hands on Bellamy’s face, fingers sliding back to tangle in his dark curls. Or his hands on her hips, drawing her in even closer. They parted briefly for air, but for the most part, their kiss went on and on in the stillness of the woods. Quiet, uninterrupted, and entirely them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Fallen in love, I’ve fallen in love   
> With the maker of the sun and the moon,"  
> Definitely what Clarke's thinking rn


End file.
